Alex leaned into my embrace as I helped him to his bedroom. His body shivered, but his skin wasn’t cold to the touch. Still, I tucked him tightly under the covers of his bed and had Millie push the thermostat up a few degrees.
He was more aware than I expected him to be. Despite Millie’s rapid, worried questions, he responded to every single one with the tenderness she needed. The slow responses and heavy eyelids gave away how exhausted he was, but his niece was none the wiser. All she saw was her uncle telling her he was okay.
Millie left the room after insisting she get him a glass of water, claiming it always helped her when she was sick. Then, it was just us.
His foggy eyes met mine. “How long?”
“A little over four minutes.” I sat at the edge of the bed, next to him.
Alex’s teeth ground together. “Felt shorter. Maybe because I haven’t had one in years.”
Our shoulders brushed, but neither of us pulled away. My arms wrapped around him, and I gently pulled his head to my shoulder. I expected him to pull away and tell me to fuck off for how I treated him last time we spoke, but he didn’t. Instead, he curled into me, and I rested my chin in his hair like it was something we’d already done many times before.
Well, that’s because it is.
“You should go to sleep,” I murmured against his head.
A heavy sigh. “Millie’s here.”
“She’s eight, not three. She’ll be okay while you sleep,” I affirmed. “And I’m here.”
“You are here,” he repeated, closing the distance as he buried his face in my chest.
Alex climbed on top of me like a koala, entangling his legs in mine and burying his head into my chest. I wrapped a firm arm around him as I slid so I was lying on my back with him on my chest. The warmth of his body felt like I was sitting before a fireplace—almost too warm. At least I had stopped the shivering.
My childhood friend was in a vulnerable state, one that needed lots of coddling and affection. If he tried moving any closer, he’d be inside me. I should have moved him, but I couldn’t bring myself to when, after half a minute of lying on me, his eyelids drooped, his lips parted, and his breathing slowed.
It brought me back to when we were merely eleven. I spent most days of the week with Alex, whether it be at my house or his, so I was often with him when it happened. In those instances, we’d end up in bed together, intertwined like our lives depended on it, with me doing whatever I could to comfort him in his agitated state. It was purely innocent; simply a boy holding his best friend when there was no one else to comfort him.
Until his parents walked in one time. They hadn’t even known he had another seizure—Alex didn’t tell them because I was there. Neither of us could understand why they were so opposed to the cuddling, and when we’d ask, we’d get vague answers such as,“Friends don’t do that.”We stopped bringing it up.
Millie came with the glass of water, but since Alex was already asleep, she drank it herself. I expected her to question why I was holding him like I was, but I don’t think it ever crossed her mind. She climbed onto the bed and snuggled next to us without a word.
I think Alex’s body was a sleeping drug because I drifted to sleep shortly after he did, and I savored every moment of us together. The fear that when he awoke, he would push me away again was large. While he had good reason to—better than he knew—it was the last thing I wanted.
Alex’s weakness was his big heart. His kindness was often used to his disadvantage, not knowing when to be firm and when to say no, and people abused it. When he stormed out of my house and ignored my texts, he set a boundary. He wasn’t passive. No, he was firm, and even though it was against me, I was proud of him. I couldn’t take advantage of his weakness.
My weakness, though? It was the recurring nightmares that came to haunt me in my sleep. Even sleeping in a unique environment couldn’t keep the horrors from meeting me in my dreams.
It was the same thing over and over. Fire surrounded me, blocking all hope of escape, and the heat was so suffocating that I was gasping for air.
I heard screams on the opposite side of the wall of fire, and I recognized each one. Carson, Mom, Dad. It rotated between the three, each guttural yell just as agonizing as the last. There was nothing I could do to stop it.
Guilt ate at me every day, and then it came to taunt me in my dreams.
I wanted out. I wanted it all to stop because what happened could not change, despite the constant replays in my head. Accident or not, my carelessness caused the fire that changed everything in my life. As much as I tried to run from the problem, it always caught up with me.
The nightmares were ridiculing me. Walls of fire to show I couldn’t run from the problems I caused, like I tried to in real life, mocking laughs to make fun of me for how cowardly it was that I was trying to run at all.
It forced me to own up to what I already knew.
That night, like many other events in my life, is my fault, and there isn’t shit I can do about it.
All decisions, even accidents, had consequences. If anything, tonight only proved that further.
But suddenly the fire disappeared, and I wasn’t in my childhood bedroom anymore. I was back in reality. The surreal reality of Alex lying on my chest, peering up at me with more worry than he had when he woke up delirious.
“Jesus, Riv,” he breathed, his hand under my shirt and roaming my chest. “You okay?”
